fey_fire: (Concerned)
fey_fire ([personal profile] fey_fire) wrote2008-09-26 08:38 pm
Entry tags:

What to do? (RP with [livejournal.com profile] abbytude)

God help me, this is agony. For both of us.

Rory sat by the bed, watching the slow rise and fall of Pippa's breathing. His lover slept deeply, but it was the sleep of exhaustion rather than true rest. Last night he'd soothed and rocked her after another scream-inducing nightmare, then comforted her through the tears and self-recriminations that followed. Stupid, useless, a burden ... every word tore at his heart, but all he could offer were embraces she felt she didn't deserve and reassurances she didn't believe.

He couldn't even sing her to sleep. Not even hum. Not after what he'd done to her with Rory's own music.

Love was supposed to heal wounds, to conquer all, wasn't it? And yet, thanks to that piece of filth, Rory had to watch his sweet believer girl suffer through no fault of her own and know that all the love, closeness and support he could give her wasn't enough. Not for this.

Leaving Pippa with Mr. Beaker curled at her side, Rory walked into the living room, pulling his cell phone from his jeans pocket. He checked the time before calling up his contact list. Eleven in the morning ... Abby would probably be at work by now. Well, he could leave a message if she wasn't free. Pippa needed help that he couldn't give, and Abby was the only person he trusted to ask for some direction.

Keeping one ear tuned for the sounds of Pippa stirring, Rory listened to the dial tones with the other.

[identity profile] abbytude.livejournal.com 2008-09-27 03:48 am (UTC)(link)
Abby wasn't at work. She was still sitting on the balcony at Cait's. Not doing anything, just sitting. Sitting and trying not to think. Willing herself to be numb.

Then the phone rang. She must have ended the previous call out of habit, she didn't recall actually disconnecting. Lifting her cell to her ear, she didn't bother looking at the display before hitting the green 'send' button that would let her pick up the new call. "Yeah...?"

The word was rasped, her throat dry from too many cigarettes smoked and not enough tears shed. "I thought you were taking him up to surgery?"

She assumed it was someone from Chicago calling her back, as promised.